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I not sure where it all started, as my mind is a blur after the epic day on our beloved Watauga River in East By Gawd Tennessee. Bare with me as I recollect the following events.

I believe it all started sometime last week while I was surfing the net in need of a trout fix. I received a call from my amigo Eric Miker of Decemberadio looking to feed his addiction as well, so we set a date to float the Watauga River on Tuesday. As luck would have it, there was rain in the forecast along with a scheduled generation. Crap, this means I will have to rise at the wee hours of the morning and beat the hated guide traffic. I hate guide traffic (no offense to you guides), but it seems they all converge on the river at the same time and it is a game of hop scotch the rest of the day. My usual strategy is to launch around lunch and fish until dark, but due to the copious amount of rain, and summer generation schedule, the TVA graced us with a mid-day generation.

Ok, where was I ? Oh yeah, I decided to give fellow BRM member Dave aka General D a ring and see if wanted to join us. Of course the General jumped all over the invitation like a fat chick on a moon pie. So tuesday roles around, we all meet bright and early at the boat ramp and we were greeted with high muddy water. F$&k, this is gonna be a fun day, not only is the water high, but it looks like chocolate milk. We launch and shortly after Miker hooks up on a nice 14 inch brown. Well maybe today won’t be so bad. Just as I said that here comes the monsoon, I mean it dumped on us like we had not made our offerings to the rain god or something. Anyway, rain, muddy water, and no rising trout have me really bummed out at this point. So we pick our way through the most of the river all the way to the Caddis Riffle before mother nature decides to play nice. Finally the sun shows itself, and the fish begin to cooperate a little. But it isn’t the day you dream of by no stretches of the imagination.

So , as the day wears on we reach the Ledges, and I search my boxes for a pattern that will work in this “Soup de Jour” of water. I have tried bigger nymphs, eggs and so on, nothing seemed to produce consistently. Now we were catching a fish here and there, but nothing to brag about. Ah, I see the Medusa a.k.a. Worm Orgy sitting nice and pretty in my box. Now I have never used this pattern, it is tied and marketed by the Legendary Dave Hise, owner of Casters Fly Shop in Hickory , NC. He is the worm and egg king, and swears by them. So I tied one on and dropped a Quazimoto PT off the back and proceeded to pick apart the water. It seemed fish after fish would hit this thing. Numbers started racking up fast.

Another Victim

Eric Miker... Guitarist Decemberadio.... Ain't he pretty!

Now imagine this if you would, Miker and I are fishing our buts off, and the General is sitting in my boat being all cranky because the Sulphurs aren’t cooperating. He is drinking all the beer and being a knot on a log. So we pick our way through the ledges and sticking fish left and right. Seriously, these are tailwater trout with a fine eye for detail, and they were eating something that would usually scare them into hiding. As the sleighing commenced, the General decided to take a stab at the bounty. As soon as he picks up the rod, he is into the fish. He too was sticking it to them. We worked our way towards the “Last Chance” hole and Miker gets hung on a rock, so i drop anchor to assist. As I am helping retrieve a stuck fly, the General hooks another, and he starts yanking the rod like its cookie cutter trout. Well it wasn’t and we quickly realize it. The fish never made an appearance during the fight, it just kept bull dogging. After a few minutes of tug-a- war, we see butter. So here I go with the net, I scoop, the trout ducks, I scoop, the trout ducks. While I am doing this, the General is cursing me for missing his trout and possibly causing him to lose the darn thing. Finally I am able to doop ol’Leroy and net him. Well done I say to the General, it looks as we have put icing on the cake for the day with a nice 20 inch Leroy brown. Mr. Poopy pants finally got off his arse and caught some fish, and the fish of the day. Now picture this, the General was sad and pissy all day, but now he is acting like an 8 year old at Christmas. Classic I tell you, classic !

Leeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrooooooooooyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The General and Leroy

Now wait, that ain’t all folks. So, after we release Mr. Leroy to the murky depths, we proceed to the “Last Chance ” hole where the proverbial raping begins. Again fish after fish on the worm patterns. Miker and I were lined up along the run sticking it to em, when I lose my last Medusa to a finicky trucha. Desperately searching my box, I spy another Dave Hise pattern known as “Eggi Juan”. I quickly tie her on and cast. Bam, I hook into a slab that flips into the air, spits the hook, and flips us the fin. My luck, I lose the big fish. Oh well, still an epic day on the Holy Water.